Do What You Love, Love What You Do
by Heartless Effervescence
Summary: Mikan Sakura is a beloved actress and Classical pianist. Natsume Hyuuga is a world-famous actor, model, and occasional singer. Then add the ultra-rich blackmailer Hotaru Imai to the deal. Now let's see what happens. When two worlds collide, hell will ensue, and both devils and angels could learn a thing or two. XX ON HIATUS XX
1. Evening of Tristesse

~ **Prologue** ~

**Happy New Year, everyone! For those of you who care enough to read, this is my New Year present to you all.**

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Gakuen Alice or the characters. Never have, never will._

Furthermore, I don't own the works listed in this fanfiction: Gone With the Wind, Rachmaninov's Third Piano Concerto, and Chopin's Tristesse etude.

I just felt the need to use the phrase "Gone with the wind" because it popped into my mind just then, and anchored itself there.

The story is mine.

**~...~**

* * *

Everything was gone. Everything she treasured, everything she loved. It all disappeared.

They were all… Gone… gone with the wind.

_**.**_

* * *

"Uncle Kazu!" I cried, discarding my music scores to the floor.

"In the study!"

Head cocked to the side, I frowned. Fiddling with my coat, I threw it onto my music pile. "Uh, which study?"

There was a pause, and my uncle replied, "The one next to your bedroom, right wing, under the staircase!"

_Jeez. What's the point of having such a big house when you can't find anyone?_

I bounded down a hallway and carelessly crashed into a vase. Staring at the chipped porcelain in dismay, I quickly stuffed it into a nearby closet.

"Mikan! Is that you?" A voice from _somewhere_ in this large house called.

Gulping, she scrambled for a reply, "Y-Yes, Uncle! I'm coming! R-Right away, yep!"

Turning down another hallway, I slid to a stop. Popping a cinnamon stick into my mouth, I made a left turn and, well, crashed into Uncle.

Sprawled on the floor, I coughed out the cinnamon, greeting my uncle with a goofy grin plastered to my face. Propped on my elbows, I drawled, "Fancy meetin' you here, Uncle."

Uncle Kazu shook his head and chuckled. Glancing down at my pancake form, he laughed, "Did I hear a crash just now?"

"Crash?" I pouted, trying my best to maintain a hurt, innocent look. "What crash? Did I crash?" Gasping, I cried, "Did somebody crash?"

Uncle just shook his head with a bemused grin. Helping me to my feet, he chuckled again, "Home so late?"

Jumping about, I clapped my hands together. Starry-eyed, I hugged him and cried, "I finally got Rach's third down! I love it so much! Wait till you hear it! Oh my!" Dancing around, I managed to slip on my socks and fall face-first.

He gazed at me with amusement and wonder sparkling in his eyes. "And to think that you, who struggles with tying your shoes… not to mention falling on your face, can get through such music like _that_," he murmured.

Beaming, I once again began hopping around the hall, animatedly telling him about my day; how I was able to drag myself up and jog to my music studio, how my best friend had practically _forced_ lunch down my throat. Then after our "lunch", I returned to the studio and got some more practicing in; analyzing, listening to different recordings, wracking my brain for music "cheats", and falling asleep around dinnertime. When I finally came to my senses, it was already half past seven. I topped the evening off by drilling through the final movement of Rachmaninov's third piano concerto.

"And here I am, home sweet home, at the _amazing_ hour of nine!" I cheered, "I'm so tired and poo—" Interrupted by the rumbling of my stomach, I shot Uncle a sheepish look.

"And here _I_ am, with a tired and hungry niece," he laughed. Ushering me towards the kitchen, I grasped his hand, grinning from ear to ear.

* * *

Awaking from a deep, peaceful slumber in the middle of night, I found myself unable to fall asleep again. Making my way across the room, I threw open the double doors that led to my balcony. Stepping out, I gazed at the dark, starless sky. Breathing a soft sigh, I leaned against the railing, my eyes never leaving the sliver of the moon. As a soft breeze tugged at my auburn hair, I closed my eyes, enjoying the wind's gentle embrace.

As a cloud passed over the lantern that hung in the sky, I turned around, returning inside. Leaving the doors open, I sat down softly on the small grand piano in a corner of my room, running my fingers gently across the keys, shivering.

Abandoning all sense of consciousness, I closed my eyes, maneuvering my hands effortlessly across the piano.

It was just the piano and myself. Nothing more.

Chopin's Tristesse intertwined with my entire being. Repeating the beloved Chopin etude endlessly, I gazed at the moon longingly, tears brimming in my eyes.

"_I-I… I love you,"_ I whispered.

* * *

**A/N:** Indeed, this is my first fanfiction, story, narrative, _chronicle(s)_; whatever you intend to call it.

I've had this… _idea_ to write a fanfiction for quite a while already. However, I never intended to write it down. Until now, that is.

In case you readers have not noticed already, Rach's Third Piano Concerto and Chopin's Tristesse are both wonderful pieces. I'd suggest listening to Tristesse while reading. It's quite… touching.

Tristesse is French for "sadness", but this etude is in a Major key—E Major, so there's a light of hope. I might not make sense, but, oh well.

Thank you, everyone for reading,

XxLady


	2. The Bumblebee's Flight

Hello everyone! Thank you for the reading _Do What You Love, Love What You Do_, and reviewing as well. They are deeply appreciated. Today, I'm back with a new chapter, I hope you all enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** Holy, must I always start with this disclaimer? _I don't own Gakuen Alice_.

* * *

**~ Chapter 1 ~**

"I expect you to be there, _cousin_. Don't forget our little," she paused, "_deal_."

A faint snort could be heard from the other side of the line.

The initial speaker's amethyst eyes narrowed. Maintaining an icy tone, she warned, "You know full well of what I am capable of. Remember that."

"Hn. Whatever."

"Perfect. My place. Eleven o'clock. Don't be late."

Another snort. "What the he–"

_Click_. The line was dead.

* * *

I was grinning from ear to ear as I ended Rachmaninoff's _Flight of the Bumblebee_ with a flourish.

Bowing before the audience, I was elated. I loved my music, I love piano, but most of all, I loved performing. As I was greeted by thunderous applause, a few people threw whistles at me whilst shouting my name. Acknowledging the spectators' requests for yet another encore, I gladly grinned at the conductor, signaling that we were ending this concert in the flashiest way possible: With Igor Stravinsky's _The Shrovetide Fair_ from Petrouchka.

**.**

I stumbled offstage with an armful of roses, cards and who-knows-what else. Beaming like a madwoman, I was pleased with my evening's performance. Flashing one last smile at the crowd, followed by a wave attempt, I disappeared backstage.

* * *

I snorted. "What the he–" _Click_.

Glaring at the red iPhone in my hand, I cursed under my breath, tempted to throw it against the bald man in front of me. Contemplating the fact that I didn't have the time to waste an hour on buying another cell, I satisfied my urge by stuffing the useless piece of crap deep into the pocket of my leather jacket instead.

"Damn that Imai," I muttered. Hissing, I glanced at my Bvlgari wristwatch – 9:47pm. I still had time.

I stalked towards the entrance of the concert hall. _What the hell did Imai want? _I ran a hand through my messy raven hair. _Hell, if she weren't such a notorious blackmailer—… Who knows what crap she has planned out now? _I leaned against a nearby pillar. _This deal. What the fuck is this damn 'deal' about anyway. Hn. I'll burn her if she—"_

"—But Hotaru! I don't have _time_!" A high-pitched voice yelped, tearing me away from my scattered thoughts. _Hotaru._ Pushing off from my spot on the pillar, I swiveled my head around, scanning the crowd for the source of the voice.

Flipping on my dark shades, I shoved through the sea of people, ignoring the girlish shrieks squealing of my name. Pinpointing my target, I strained my ears to catch her voice.

" –Big meanie! You know very well that I," a pause. "Jeez." The brunette pouted, looking down at her phone in dismay. Shaking her head, she muttered, "Stupid Hotaru! Stupid phone! Stupid everything!"

I arched an eyebrow as she fumbled with her phone and pulled on a pair of dark maroon shades that mirrored mine.

Stomping down the steps of Carnegie Hall with her coat practically floating around her, she hopped into a waiting limo and disappeared into the night.

I glanced down. _10:46pm_.

Crap.

* * *

"You're late."

Leaning against a wall of Hotaru Imai's residence, I couldn't care less.

"Let's not keep our company waiting. Follow me," her emotionless voice commanded.

"Hn. Just hurry up already. I don't have time for your stupid guests."

"I made time for _you_," She pointed out.

I said nothing as my crimson orbs narrowed at her comment.

A childish voice drifted towards them, "Ne, Hotaru! Do you have any more of this chocolate?"

"Those weren't for you in the first place. If you keep eating like the pig you are, you'll get fat," A monotone voice replied.

Leading me into an expansive room, I took in my surroundings. _Not bad._ Despite the large size, I was impressed by the simplicity and elegance present. _Not that she'll ever know that._ The dark leather furniture was contrasted to the pure white walls. Large windows that stretched from the floor to the ceiling overlooked a brightly lit city in the distance. To the left, there were two 9-foot Steinway concert grands, further boasting my cousin's wealth. On one of the pianos sat a disgustingly cheerful-looking brunette dressed in dark jeans and a long sleeve shirt

The brunette girl pouted. "Hotaru, you meanie!" Bouncing up from her spot on the piano bench, she scampered over to Imai. "Oh please, please, Hotaru! Just one more piece! Hotaruu! I love you! Please! Hotaru please!"

Imai dismissed the girl's whining with a wave of her hand. Nodding at me, she instructed for me to introduce myself.

"Introduce? What's the need for an introduction?" I asked cockily while taking off my shades with a flare, "We already met anyway." Tossing them onto a nearby couch, I blinked lazily, turning my crimson orbs towards the girl bouncing around Imai.

At this, the brunette's eyes widened with curiosity, "Good midnight! If my met you, hm, I don't really remember, but… oh well," She beamed, interrupted by a large yawn, "I'm Mikan Sakura, pleased to meet you!" Holding out a hand, she grinned again.

"Jeez, I'm not shaking your hand… _Tangerine_," I drawled.

The airhead drew her hand back in, flashed a pout, and crossed her arms with a huff.

I smirked. "I'm Hyuuga Natsume. _ Amazing_ actor, model, singer, and all that crap."

"Jeez. Big ego, much?" She quipped.

Keeping my smirk in place, I stared straight into her eyes. She took this as a staring contest; holding each other's gazes until Imai interrupted, clearing her throat in annoyance.

"If you two are done _flirting_, cousin, I suggest you start talking."

Tearing my gaze away from _Mikan_ in annoyance, I glared at my cousin. Catching the little girl's _I win_ expression, I turned and stalked away from the living room.

"We're rearranging. Change of plans. Text me," I growled at Imai.

With a blink, my cousin shrugged, and nodded, "Not my problem."

"Wha? What, wait! We didn't even 'get down to business' yet!" Tangerine cried. She scuttled over to me, prepared to protest against my departure. Managing to trip over her own feet, she landed on her face. Unfazed, she grinned stupidly up at me just as she was interrupted by a large yawn.

I smirked, turned around, and continued moving away. With a wave of my hand, I called over my shoulder, "See you, Polka dots."

Just as I was heading out, I shook my head. _3, 2, 1._

"You Pervert! Come back! Waah, Hotaru! Now I'll never get married!"

"As if anyone would marry you," Came Hotaru's reply.

Stepping into my black Lamborghini, I sped away, allowing the smallest of smiles to take over my features.

* * *

**A/N: **Well, that's it for the time being! I hope you all enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. I didn't take too much time in terms of editing, but I'm open to critiques on my grammar and spelling and all that.

Got any ideas you would like me to include in future chapters? PM me or let me know in comments, I will be sure to acknowledge them once I get a chance.

And so here our journey begins.

_XxLady_


	3. Wrath of the Tempest

**A/N: Dear Readers,**

**As I am writing this, I am supposed to be studying my History lesson of the day. My heart and mind, however, say otherwise. At the very moment, I am blinking, and listening to Chopin's **_**Tristesse**_**, typing into my computer. It's Tuesday evening right now, with a beautiful full moon to my left, right out the window, above our garden of now-dead flowers. The moon is… beautiful; so round, smooth, and picturesque. Cloaked in a soft layer of fog and framed with the branches of dark, timeless trees, it really is something to behold; tugging at my heart, soothingly and eerily beautiful.**

**Friday, Upload time: Great, I'm risking my Father's wrath, but, oh well! I just couldn't wait for 24 more hours. **

**The Maastricht Salon Orchestra's version of **_**Tristesse**_** is performing on my computer yet another time, and now, my friends, I shall get on with my story.**

* * *

"Hyuuga was there, you know."

"You mean the bloody, crimson-eyed, perverted, conceited, moron prince of a stupid actor and the big underwear-peeker? _Where_?"

"No, Hyuuga is Marilyn Monroe's fraternal twin with amazing curly hair. He lives in the world of Narnia and is married to a unicorn, or maybe an alicorn. His children are named Eenie, Meenie, Miney, and Mo. Hyuuga also has a dog's tail, in case you were wondering. But then later his unicorn wife died at the paws, or perhaps five-toed, three-legged chinchillas. At the end, _Prince_ Hyuuga was abducted by aliens that wore Beethoven's pants."

There was a long silence on the other side of the line. "H-H-Hotaru…" she trailed off.

"What is it?" a bored voice asked.

"Y-You, You were spying on me!" the brunette shrieked into the phone, "How could you!" Balling the piece of paper in front of her, Mikan threw it to the floor, stomping and tearing at it in her annoyance and embarrassment.

"Now, let's not go throwing temper tantrums, shall we? But it's a shame really. That drawing of yours could have fetched me quite a bit of money. No one would expect their beloved musician to have such a flawed side."

Mikan's nostrils flared, "Hey, it was _my_ drawing, so some of the money would be mine! And besides," she said with a huff, "How do you know what I'm doing anyway?"

"Well, if you really want to know. Look out your right window."

Turning her head slightly, she squeaked, falling to the floor in surprise. Standing behind an overgrown hedge was

"You know, it's cold out here."

"Hotaru, you're so cruel! Cold people and cold weather ought to match!" Pouting to herself, Mikan flung her studio window open. "You could have used the door like any other normal being, you know," she complained.

Climbing in, Hotaru shrugged. "You're not normal, and you use the door." Shaking off her jacket, Hotaru looked at Mikan, "It's late, what are you still doing here?"

"It's only nine! Besides, I was supposed to be reading this textbook, but I drew some weirdo instead," With her phone in hand, Mikan gestured at the music history textbook lying open on the glass table, scowling in annoyance.

Settling comfortably into a cream-colored couch, Hotaru maintained an uninterested gaze, "Need some help?"

Mikan's gaze lit up like a Christmas tree, "Really, Hotaru?" Bouncing on her feet, she beamed, "Thank you!"

Hotaru shook her head at Mikan's childishness. "What are you, twelve years old?"

"Nuh-uh! I'm sixteen, thank you very much!"

Hotaru rolled her eyes, "I know that, dummy. It was sarcasm."

"Eh? Sarcasm?"

Fondling with Mikan's textbook, Hotaru just shook her head, "We're starting with the Modern era of music."

Mikan made a face, "Taylor Swift? Justin Bieber? Yuck. Thanks, but no thanks, Hotaru. I'm even proud to say that I've never even heard _Beaver_ sing before. I never even knew you were into that sort of thing."

Hotaru heaved an exasperated sigh. _This is going to be a long evening_.

.

The brunette sighed, "I'm so tired, Hotaru! Make it end," she whined.

"It's only been two hours, stupid."

"I know! But memorizing lines of black words is _not_ the same as actually _sitting_ at my beloved piano! Besides, I also want to sleep," Mikan flopped onto the piano bench, staring glumly at the black Steinway in front of her.

"You're itching to play, aren't you?"

Mikan nodded miserably. "History is fascinating… and Giuseppe whatever-his-name-is Verdi and Richy-Oh-Amazing Wagner are nice, but…"

The dark-haired girl nodded at the grand, "Then by all means, play something. I can't stand to hear your endless whining or see you moping." Inputting something into her phone, Hotaru leaned back against her leather seat, "We're touching base with Richard Wagner after this. Go with Tempest tonight."

Mikan's beam faltered, "B-But Hotaru," she whispered, "Don't you—"

Hotaru gazed at her friend, "Just go with it Mikan," she said softly. Shrugging, she closed her eyes.

_Come on Mikan, you got this,_ she told herself_, it's nothing to be afraid of. I got this_. Taking a deep breath, Mikan closed her eyes, placing her hands on the keyboard. _Tempest. We're brewing up a storm tonight._

.

**Mikan**

Eye closed, I tore through Beethoven's sonata, feeling a sense of letting go, a sense of confrontation of the feelings I have tried for so long to evade. The feeling of a storm let loose. I felt… despondent. Unleashing my carefully bottled-up emotions into the music, my heart ached, searching. Wandering. In the midst of the second movement, I thought I heard a soft shuffle and another person's presence. Dismissing it as the adrenaline rush and my running heart, I continued on, commanding my music with dignity, with honor, with touches of longing. I dove into the last movement, my soul beating with yearning. I was brimming with agitation, searching… searching, to no avail… I was lost; confused; wondering… Bringing the last minor arpeggio to a close, I finished Beethoven's Tempest.

I bowed my head, letting my hands go limp on my lap as I closed my eyes, a tear trickling down my cheek, "_Mom_… _Dad…" _Rising from the bench slowly, my head still bent, I ran blindly towards the studio door, pushing past a figure leaning against the doorframe.

Arriving outside, I gulped greedily for air, inhaling the evening's fresh, mysterious air. Leaning against the wall, I turned my eyes upwards, gazing at the thin moon. Stars adorned the late-night sky, sprinkled about like white sugar. "M-Mom…? D-Daddy?" I whispered hoarsely, closing my eyes once again.

Then I lost it.

Throwing myself at a nearby tree, I punched it a dozen times with all my might, biting the insides of my mouth heatedly. _Mom, Dad, you just had to die! You just had to! Why, why, why?! _Disregarding the stabbing pain shooting up my arms, I ignored the peeled skin and blood welling up at my knuckles, thankful for the dark. My arms stinging, I kicked the tree trunk before leaning against the branches, sliding to my feet. I looked at my hands under the moonlight. _What have I done? What… What am I thinking…?_

.

"If you keep doing this, I'm going to have to think twice before letting you touch the piano again in the future."

"Hotaru." The brunette smiled lovingly at her friend, "N-no. You know me, I'm such an idiot," she laughed, "It happened, what, six years ago? It's just; I'm still not over it. I-I know I have Uncle K-Kazu, but sometimes… it's just not enough. I really do miss Mom and Dad…"

Hotaru walked up to her friend, allowing her eyes to soften, "I know… I know… I understand, Mikan. I do. Your performance today? It… It was beautiful," Turning her gaze away from Mikan, Hotaru smiled faintly, "It was real."

"You liked it?" the girl asked hopefully.

Shrugging, Hotaru turned to go inside. "If you decide to get sick or effected, dummy, I won't be the one taking care of you."

Reverting to her cheerful self, Mikan scampered after Hotaru, "Hotaru, you meanie! Wait for me!" Forgetting about her early mishap, she dashed through the door after her best friend.

.

"Gesamtkunstwerk… German for _total art work_, an ideal idea used by Wagner, which was achieved through the perfect union of text, scenery, music, costumes, and lighting," Mikan recited, yawning, as she stared down crossly at her bandaged hands.

Hotaru nodded at Mikan's answer, "Heldentenor?"

The brunette bit her lip, brows furrowed, "Oh I got it! It's also German…! For 'heroic tenor', right? It's like, umm, a male voice with a high range that possesses incredible strength and stamina. Oh and erm, it is associated specifically with Wagner's operas."

"Don't stutter. Think before you speak. You sound like an idiot."

Mikan just pouted, "You meanie!" Dismissing Hotaru's blunt comment, the girl waited eagerly for Hotaru's next quiz.

"Leitmotif."

"I got this!" Mikan cried. Knocking on her own head, she winced, "When will these stupid hands heal?"

"I'm waiting for an answer here," came a monotone voice.

Eyes brightening, Mikan beamed, "I got it! Leitmotif is uh—"

"—Don't stutter."

"—Is… also German! For 'leading motif', which is, I think, a concise theme that undergoes some sort of transformation and, I think, carries a," she coughed, "specific musical association, blah bIah. This too was perfected by our _dear_ friend Richard Wagner…"

"And?"

"Oh umm…" the brunette yawned, "It's a musical fragment imbued with some kind of meaning or standing for a certain character, place, object, or e-emotion."

Hotaru nodded in satisfaction, "One more. Wagner's birth and death?"

Mikan gawked at her friend, "You're not even _looking_ at the textbook! You remember all that?"

Hotaru stared impassively at her friend, "You should have remembered it all too, dummy. Waiting for dates right now, idiot."

Closing her eyes in concentration, Mikan finally squeaked, beaming confidently, "1813-1883!"

"Exact dates, of course."

"Hotaru! You're so cruel!" After several minutes, she finally uttered, "May 22nd, 1813 – the thirteenth of February, 1883."

"I didn't hear that. Come again?"

Mikan scowled, "The twenty-second of May, 1813 to February thirteenth, 1883," she said positively.

"Good."

Mikan reached for her phone, ignoring her friend's blandness, "It's one o'clock already? No wonder I'm pooped," Mikan mused, a yawn racking her body.

Hotaru rose from her spot on the couch. Strolling towards the piano, she repeated from earlier, "Hyuuga was there, you know."

The brunette stuck her tongue out, "you mean the bloody, crimson-eyed, per—"

"—Let's not repeat ourselves," Hotaru interjected quickly, "Yes, the crimson-eyed being."

"So he's not human after all!" the brunette piped up.

Hotaru turned from her standing position at the piano, discontinuing her affair of dusting the lid. Shrugging, she said, "You can say that."

The brunette beamed, which was immediately replaced by a frown, "Wait who was _where_?"

Hotaru took a deep breath. Keeping her voice as steady as possible, she ground out, "My _cousin_. Natsume Hyuuga," the violet-eyed girl coughed upon saying his name, "was at your concert several days ago."

"Eh?! He was? The stupid perverted moron watched me perform!" she fumed, "The nerve!"

"Jumping to conclusions quickly, are we?" Hotaru remarked wryly.

The brunette shrugged, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice, "What did he think? Did he like it? Did he hate me? Was I awesome? Oh! I can't wai—"

"Slow down, jeez. Why I even bothered to tell you, I don't know…" Hotaru muttered.

Mikan just grinned, flopping down on the leather couch, all traces of sleepiness flying through the window. "So? Tell me! What'd he think? What did _everyone_ think? Come to think of it…" the brunette thought aloud, "I didn't get to stay after the concert. Because I just _had_ to go to your place," she pouted.

"You're so immature. Besides, Hyuuga's practically a stranger to you. How you manage to pull of a show in your music will always remain a mystery to me."

"It's not a show!" Mikan squeaked heatedly, "It's _genuine_." Fuming, she placed emphasis on the word 'genuine'.

"Mikan,"

"Eh?"

"If you keep whining, we'll be here forever. I'm tired."

"Oh right! Go on please, Hotaru! You're my bestest friend!"

Leaning against the piano, she folded her arms across her chest. Hotaru began stoically, "As I said, Hyuuga was there. But I'm not one to repeat his words. Simply put, he enjoyed it," she finished disinterestedly.

Mikan puckered her lips, "That's it? There was no particular phrasing he liked? He didn't enjoy my different interpretations? What's his _problem_?"

Hotaru straightened, staring dispassionately into Mikan's chocolate orbs, "He doesn't give out compliments. Not many people see his emotional side. To say that he enjoyed it, is a great compliment."

"You're protecting him? Aww, Hotaru! That's so sweet of you!"

Silence met the brunette's complimenting admiration. Shrugging at her friend, Mikan's body was convulsed in a yawn. Covering her mouth with a bandaged hand, she said, "Well, I'd like to meet him anyway. Properly. One day. A day that he won't look at my underwear."

Hotaru just shook her head, nodding a moment later , "Hyuuga was here during your performance of the Tempest."

Mikan nearly fell out of her seat on the couch, "He _what_?!" she shrieked, spluttering.

"You always make me repeat myself twice, don't you?"

"Sorry Hotaru," Mikan murmured meekly, climbing warily back onto the couch.

Shrugging, Hotaru gave a wave of her hand. "He left after you _flirtatiously_ bumped into him. Anyway. It's getting quite late. We should part ways now." She strode towards the door, turning her head slightly, "We'll set up for a meeting between the two of you. Expect a text."

Grinning, Mikan waved at her friend, "Thank you Hotaru! And night night!" Scuttling around her studio, the brunette closed down her pianos, humming a lively tune. "Wait, _flirt_? Jeez Hotaru, in your dreams!" Cheeks reddening, she resumed her task of scurrying to and fro. Tidying up the rest of the room, she discarded the trash lying about on the floor, picking up loose sheets of music, stacking textbooks together neatly on a table. Beaming, she clapped her hands together, "All done!" Wiggling into her jacket, she glanced at the time on her phone._ 1:47am_. Yawning, she sauntered out the door, a smile on her lips. Locking the studio behind her, Mikan turned down an empty street, happily fantasizing about her comfortable bed. Snapped from her thoughts, she clumsily bumped into a figure.

"Watch where you're going, little girl," the voice growled.

Mikan peeped up, gaping at the figure donned in black. She gasped. There was only one word running in her mind.

… _Crimson._

* * *

**A/N: As I am finishing up this chapter, it is Wednesday morning. Believe it or not, the sky is a beautiful, fluffy pink color. It's gorgeous and a maybe a bit tugging at the same time, the pink overlapping the dark clouds, shrouding them in a soft glow.**

**Thank you, everyone, for being patient with my rather slow updates. A lot of the times, time just does not permit for me to upload my writings. By the time you read this, it will probably already be Saturday. _Nuh-Uh, it's Friday, and almost lunchtime for me right now!_**

**I know that a few of us aren't all too familiar with Richard Wagner and German terms, so… sorry for ruffling with your brains! I just need to include more musical background, with Mikan being a musician and all.**

**Direct any classical music questions towards me, if you must.**

**And so, until next time, my friends,**

_**Alex**_

**As I am signing my name, the pink from the sky has entirely disappeared, leaving behind but a faint rosy tint to the murky clouds. _Too bad it's Friday already. No more pretty 'n pink._**


End file.
